Alpha
by Eight Horcrux
Summary: It's that time of the year again and Monroe hasn't told Nick. He's frustrated, withdrawn and Nick doesn't know why. [ Nickroe ]
1. I

I

It had been growing in his belly for weeks now; the primitive urge to mate. Monroe had never explained the male wolves time of the year to Nick, and as the calendar passed further through March the beast within clawed to be released.

He had been fighting it back, keeping it repressed with as many minutes he could muster in the shower without Nick knowing what he was up to; going solo had usually got him through the rough patch, but now that he had Nick he felt the need to claim him.

Monroe could smell Nick before he heard him; his scent weighed heavily of mint and talc powder. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on marking his territory, moving up and down the fence that he had been spraying religiously since the beginning of March.

"When you're ready, the toasts burned and the eggs are over done," Nick called out the kitchen window. __Shit. __He'd forgotten about breakfast.

"Sorry," he muttered, sitting down without meeting Nick's gaze.

"Ketchup?" Nick asked.

Monroe shook his head. "No."

Silence pursued; it had become awkward very quickly since the beginning of March, with Monroe finding it increasingly more difficult to be within close proximity of his partner. As they silently ate, he fought with his nose to stop smelling the mint and to stop inhaling the soft scent of talc. Behind the manufactured smells, he could sense growing frustration.

Monroe didn't get satisfaction from keeping Nick in the dark, it was torture denying him physical contact in bed; he hated to break their kisses short, their eye contact diminished and he can't remember the last time he'd let Nick fall asleep in his arms.

"I'm heading to work early," Nick announced, clearing his plate. "Will I bring home dinner?"

"Sure."

"What would you like?"

"Anything's fine."

Monroe didn't need to look up to know Nick's expression because he could smell the hurt. He preoccupied himself with scraping a particularly hard piece of egg to the side of his plate, while he counted the seconds to Nick's departure; he will put on his coat, grab his keys and go.

The sound of Nick's feet thumping back into the kitchen made him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" Nick snapped, banging a hand either side of the table across from Monroe and leaning close.

Monroe's loins twitched; he could feel a tightening in his jeans as his cock grew. The grip on his fork tightened and he shook his head. "No" was the reply.

"What do you mean '__no__'? You've been acting shady all month and haven't even __looked__ at me this morning."

Monroe shrugged. "I didn't notice."

Nick scoffed. "You're being ridiculous! Monroe, if there's something going on or you're having second thoughts about ... about us, then you need to fucking tell me, man. I'm not fucking around this house talking to the walls anymore because you won't talk to me. And while I mention '__fuck__', I can't remember the last time we did!"

"WOULD YOU GO TO WORK ALREADY!" Monroe snapped, pushing himself up to match Nick's stance, though he easily towered above him. He knew that his eyes gleamed red, fierce and hot and he could feel the prickling behind his skin as his body tried to Woge.

It didn't take Nick long to retreat, his face crumpling with a mixture of shock, fear and hurt as he backed out the door. __Shit. What have you done? __He eased himself back into the chair, kneading the palms of his hand's against his forehead and fighting back the slight pleasure he got from asserting his dominance.

Things were easier when he was single; he could abuse himself for as long as he needed in the shower, letting his mind roam anywhere it needed to go and not having to fear Woging in front of anyone. Now that he thought about it, things were easier before he'd reformed; he had Angelina and an endless amount of wooded area to run and play catch.

Now all he could do was roll away from Nick every time he got an erection, or say he was tired or didn't feel well if Nick made an advance. He sighed with frustration, and pulling his shirt over his head, made for the shower where Nick's scent lingered heavily in the air.

* * *

_Taking a shot at writing some sexually explicit Nickroe. Happy writing y'all!_


	2. II

He hated to think how Nick would react if he knew what he was doing now. His gray eyes would burn holes in Monroe's; he'd shove him, hit him, scream at him; he'd do everything to Monroe that Monroe wanted to do to him.

His eyelids drooped with desire as the warm water hit his chest. He groaned and slid his palm over his straining cock. He could feel the intense heat pulsing beneath the delicate skin as he slid his thumb over the sensitive tip.

Monroe groaned at the thought of Nick; he'd bend him over, spread his toned thighs and drag his fingers across his delicate skin. Nick would oblige, curving his spine and push against Monroe. He'd hear him whimper, but push his face into the bed, penetrating him roughly and relishing in his pained protests.

Monroe's thighs clenched and his balls tightened; he could feel the flurry of ecstasy in his spine and quickened his stroke.

"Fu-uck..." he growled, releasing his seed across the wall. He continued to stroke the aching flesh, his free hand propping him against the shower wall while he let the water pour down his neck.

Monroe braced himself, ready to feel the guilt; now that he'd satisfied the wolf momentarily, humanity poured through his veins. He roughly brushed his hands through his hair, muttering profanities while he dressed. He hated mating season. 

* * *

"Easy, brother. Don't shoot the messenger," Hank jibed, sliding a doughnut box and a coffee to Nick. He propped his own feet against the edge of Nick's chair.

"Sorry. I'm a little on the edge."

"I can see. What's got your gears creaking?"

Nick made a sound and shrugged. He wasn't sure whether to tell Hank or not; he didn't know if his partner was too accepting of his new found lifestyle. Hank was a good friend; he was funny, head strong and Nick could depend on him to have his back, but Hank was old school.

The night Nick packed his bag and left Juliette he had considered asking Hank for his couch; he knew his partner would be more than willing, but he also knew he'd have spent the entire time there being lectured on couple's counselling and patience. Hank just didn't get it and if Nick were entirely truthful, he'd admit that half the reason he left Juliette was because he had felt something for Monroe.

"Just this case," he lied, dropping his pen and shoving the file toward Hank. "I haven't got a clue of the who, where, when's or why's."

Hank just wouldn't get it.


	3. III

He hesitated at the door; one hand balancing a pizza box and the other hovering over the lock. Turning away would have been easier, he knew that, but he also knew that Monroe would have smelled him coming long before he had gotten out of the car.

Sighing in defeat, he let himself in and expected to find his partner waiting on the couch for him, beers at the ready. That was their Tuesday night routine; Nick would pick up dinner, Monroe would get the beers ready and together they'd catch up on Law and Order. But Monroe wasn't on the couch and there were no icy beers on the coffee table.

"Monroe?" he called, dropping his keys in the bowl and removing his jacket. The ride home from work had plagued him with turmoil. He wasn't sure of the approach he should take; he debated coming home with no food – that would serve that Blutbad – and he almost didn't come home at all.

Their bedroom door clicked open and he heard Monroe pad across the landing. Nick could smell the basil shampoo he used in the shower and the wet locks Monroe sported confirmed where he had been. He almost leaned in for a kiss; he really did love how Monroe's curls half-heartedly straightened into a kink when wet, but then remembered they weren't on the best of terms.

"Alright?" was Monroe's greeting, flashing him a brief look on his way to the kitchen.

Nick grimaced with annoyance. "Yeah, fine."

They sat in silence for the most part, each of them mumbling requests every now and then; 'Can you turn it up a bit?', 'Pass the tissue.'. Nick found himself chewing the same bite of pizza for almost 5 minutes before Monroe's fidgeting alerted him.

He glanced sideways; he was hoping Monroe wouldn't notice because he was no longer feeling hurt, instead, he was feeling angry and wanted to bash something against the Blutbad's head. Monroe's left foot jiggled and Nick noticed a slight bulge in his pants. He snapped his head up, almost in faint hope when he saw that Monroe's eyes were glittering with a familiar desire.

"What's that about?" he asked, nodding toward Monroe's pants. He would later swear he had heard a faint growl from Monroe's chest.

"Oh, sorry. Just happens, I guess." was the lie he received, and that's all it took to make him fire the pizza he'd now chewed to mush back into its box.

"It just happens then, does it?" he barked, shifting to face Monroe. "I'm going to be honest here now Monroe, so you'd better listen good."

"Not tonight, Nick. I'm tired and I-"

"DON'T." Nick stood, grabbed a pillow and instinct sent him slapping it against Monroe's chest. "I'm tired too, Monroe; not just from work though; I'm tired of you. I'm tired of talking to myself because you're ignoring me. I'm tired of staring at the back of your head because you won't look at me. I'm tired of wanting to kiss you but being afraid you'll reject me again. I'm tired of restless nights wondering why I can't touch you and playing back the last time we were normal, examining every memory and looking for the moment I've done something wrong – something to explain this."

There it was again; the wall of silence. He huffed, almost emitting a delirious chuckle; Monroe wasn't going to give, he wasn't going to explain. He nodded, biting his bottom lip and huffed again; this time letting that delirious chuckle escape. "I'm done. Done."

Monroe looked up in time to see the tails of Nick's jacket before the front door slammed shut, and he was gone. A deep sigh shook his body; did he just let him leave? Did he really not even look at him?

_Why didn't you follow him! Why didn't you even try, dammit._

The beer bottle dangled from his fingers, it didn't taste the same now Nick's scent was gone, but his mind was clearer when Nick wasn't around – there was no smell to engulf him. Monroe knew he needed to follow him, find him and explain. He knew he was hurting them both; but it wasn't easy trying to explain to your boyfriend that you needed to fuck him until he passed out – literally.

There was a tear threatening to fall, he could feel it on the edge of his eye before it slithered down his cheek. Things were easier in the wild; he didn't need to explain to other Blutbad what needed to be done; they willingly came forward, their own primitive needs overpowering them. Another slug from his beer and he gave up on getting wasted, gathering the rubbish and binning it before throwing his head in his hands. Was he really going to throw everything on the firing line for this?

* * *

Nick had driven aimlessly for a half hour, veering in and out of streets before deciding to crash in the trailer. It would be cold, lonely and he'd be surrounded by decades of dust, but it was no different from being with Monroe now.

He grew bored quickly and sought comfort in one of the old books he'd been working on; this one was specifically about Blutbad. His ancestors had spent so much time cutting their heads off that they never got to truly know a Blutbad's nature. They are vicious, yes; they are uncultivated and uncanny, yes; but they were also loyal, brave and made a great friend. He blinked a tear away.

_I jabbed it hard in the lower back and the blood-curdling howl assured me I had hit my target – the cluster of nerves had no doubt spasmed greatly upon contact. The beast tried to run, but could not get to two feet quick enough before I drew my sword and cut through the thick muscle in its neck. It then fell dead._

_The girl I had searched for was damaged. Her skin had many bite wounds, some deep enough to cause infection, and the swelling in her hand told me it was crushed beyond repair. She later died of blood loss following an attempted amputation._

_Having logged my victory I noticed a pattern. This same time last year I had killed 2 more Blutbadden, pulling one from an innocent woman's home and the other I targeted while it stalked a young woman through the woods._

_With research, it seems that Blutbadden share similar mating habits with their primitive ancestors and come into a wild frenzy of sexual desire throughout the primitive mating season. I have no further evidence to suggest this, only a guess._


	4. IV

Nick didn't come home that night; he didn't answer any of Monroe's calls either. Each time the phone went to voice mail, Monroe hung up before he could babble something stupid into the receiver.

That one question played over in his mind: __Am I going to put everything on the firing line because of this? __A part of him screamed yes; it was easier that way and Monroe had become accustomed to letting go of the things that he loved to stay in control.

There had been a moment when he stood in the bathroom, hands either side of the sink and had examined his face. He looked unkempt; his beard had slightly outgrown itself and his hair was not swept in its usual side parting. His pupils were dilated though and that want burned within them.

When he asked himself again: __Am I going to put everything on the firing line because of this?__ His entire body screamed never. Pushing passed the wolf he rooted deep within himself and pulled every memory of Nick to the surface; the smaller man's smile – so broad and charming – the devilish glint in his eyes, his soft touch and the way he was the only person Monroe would cut his pilates routine short for.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick text:__Can we talk? I need to explain.__

* * *

It was when his phone vibrated obnoxiously that Nick realised he had fallen asleep with his face planted uncomfortably against the wall. Sun streamed through the crack in the curtain making him wince and recoil – he might have had a beer too many. The way his stomach twisted when he struggled to rise from the bed confirmed his suspicion.

Picking up a half empty bottle, he drew it to his lips as he retrieved his phone – the smell alone made him gag and deciding better, he dumped it. Six missed calls and one text message. He felt somewhat cheated, though he knew he was being unfair.

With shaking fingers he pressed redial and almost hung up. Waiting for Monroe to answer gave him the chance to argue with his mind; __hang up, hang up, hang up you idiot! He needs to contact you, he needs to come to you. HANG UP … But he did contact me – seven times! And, he does want to come to me.__ He felt like an idiot as the phone went to voice mail.

This time the beer he retrieved from the bin didn't make him gag, neither did the other two he opened for breakfast and ate over a doughnut he knew was two days old. He was confused, angered again and just when he thought he had figured it out, couldn't believe the conclusion he came to.

It didn't seem obvious at first; his ancestor kept killing these Blutbadden around the same time every year because they were found stalking people. But then he realised they were stalking women and they were doing sexual things to these women; and his phone told him that some wolves mate around this time. It didn't make a lot of sense to him, but it was something to hopelessly cling to.

"Nick?" Three knocks echoed throughout the trailer. It was Monroe's voice. Nick's first instinct, and one which was quickly thwarted, was to pretend that he wasn't there. "I know you're in there. I can smell you... and your cars outside."

After a moment's silence in which he panicked, felt elated and then felt angry for the millionth time, he replied, "What do you want?" He felt giddy; the same kind of giddy you feel when you meet your crush.

"I need to talk to you about everything. I made mistakes, Nick. I need to explain. Look just open up, OK?"

"There's no point in coming in here if you're -"

The lock clicked and he stared with some amusement at Monroe barging into the trailer that now seemed cramped as the taller man towered over his pathetic state on the bed. Nick wasn't sure if he was angry at Monroe's intrusion, or if he was pleased at his persistence.

"I planned on being polite, but you wouldn't open the door so I had to go with plan B," Monroe said, closing it behind him. He swept his locks away from his eyes, sweeping a look around the room. The empty beer bottles made him frown; he knew he had smelled something familiar among Nick's scent.

"I don't want to hear your bitching about the beer," Nick told him.

"I wasn't going to," and after a second too long of silence asked, "Can I sit?"

Nick inched his legs to one side giving Monroe just enough room to sit uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, but he didn't complain and graciously took the offer. Nick could see him chewing the inside of his lips the way he did when he was thinking deeply.

"I remember the first time you gave me a key to this place," Monroe said, staring around their confinement. He always felt somewhat uncomfortable here, lounging in the decades of plotting and destruction these Grimm's had brought to him and his ancestors. "I still get a little weirded out by the weapons cabinet. One of those axes has old blood stains on it, you know?"

Nick huffed. He still possessed some dignity in this situation and was after all, still really hurt by Monroe's behaviour.

"I need to apologise to you," Monroe sighed, his head hung and he fiddled with the watch on his left hand. "I know you're probably confused and angry."

"I was." Nick replied, to which Monroe's brow creased with interest. "Now I'm hurt."

"I know. I don't blame you. I was a bastard."

"You were."

That brought a smirk to Monroe's face. He dismissed it quickly and continued. "There's this Blutbad thing … it happens around March of every year; sometimes a little earlier in February and never later than April. It's in sync with our primitive ancestors ... with wolves. It's mating season. Right now in the wild wolves are courting their mates and getting ready to breed. Something similar happens to a Blutbad."

"I know."

Monroe stopped and turned to Nick with a look of sincere confusion. "You know?" Nick nodded. "How?"

Nick pulled the book from behind him and put it in Monroe's lap. "I was looking at this last night. Your ancestor mentioned killing your people around the same time every year and __always__ in the same kind of scenario – they were stalking women for __sex__; and then down here," he jabbed to a foot note scrawled near the bottom. "It mentions wolves mating patterns, just like you just told me. I didn't know if I was right or not, I just had a hunch that you were maybe going through something similar."

Monroe's fingers pressed firmly against his temples. He was grateful for the stench of beer and other concoctions that the trailer offered to dim Nick's scent. "It's different for us … for me. Female wolves get it; they know when mating season is coming and they want it as much as the male does. There's not much conflict. It's the same for women of my kind – Blutbad. They accept it and feel the same urges. Nick, when we 'mate' for lack of a better word, it's rough. It's painful, angry and fast. There's no foreplay, no love, no emotion – it's all need."

"You could have just told me, Monroe. I would have understood. You treated me like crap all this month! I thought I was after fucking up and …". That prickling in his eyes returned and his vision blurred with hot tears.

"Nick, please; don't cry." Monroe's hands reached to collect the tears that fell. His fingers trembled a little as the sensation of lust built in his loins. He hadn't been this close to Nick in a long time. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry I wasn't there to comfort you and hold you, or to tell you just how much you mean to me. I __need__ you Nick and not just in a lusting way; I need your touch, your smell, your smile and your love." He ran a finger through a wisp of untamed hair and tucked it behind Nick's ear. "I love you, Nick."

They sat in silence, Monroe waiting for any sign of life from Nick, his gut trembling at the things Nick could rightfully say to him. He could tell him to get out, erase his number, forget his face and never think of him again. Hell, he even thought deep down that he probably deserved something like that.

"I would have been willing," Nick whispered.

Monroe shook his head, his hands hovered close to Nick's; he wanted to take them in his own and kiss them. "I'm sure you would have been. Then when I'd have bitten you deep enough to make you bleed, or twisted a limb too far until it popped,or even worse … you'd look back and regret your decision."

"I wouldn't. We've had sex before and you always … bite me and it never hurts, Monroe!" He was angry again; not only at the hint of blush that had appeared on his cheeks, but because he wanted to make Monroe feel the pain he had felt.

"You don't get it, Nick. Please try to understand! I don't know if I could control myself enough to get you out of that situation without hurting you."

"So instead you forget I exist while you ride it out? That's a shitty excuse, man!" He was on his feet now, daringly standing above Monroe with a determined look on his face. There was no stopping the movement he made next; his hands found Monroe's shoulders, shoving him back into the bed. "You're a dickhead, you know that?"

Monroe's pants tightened. His body tingled with need and desire; he wanted to grab the collar of Nick's shirt and pin him down. As his senses heightened he blocked the smell of beer and dangerous Wesen destroying liquids. His entire nose was consumed with Nick smell and Nick's only.

"Nick …," he choked. "Don't do this."

"What? Does hitting you piss the wolf off? If so, then good!" He threw a punch, narrowly clipping Monroe's jaw.

Monroe leaped, encasing Nick's body beneath his own in a movement Nick would later compare to Flash Gordon running. Monroe's body was heavy, his breath was hot and his eyes burned crimson – the pressure was uncomfortable. Nick should have been scared, or even slightly intimidated as his boyfriend pinned his arms above his head. But he couldn't make room for those feelings when he felt Monroe's cock pressing against his hip bone – it was hard, it felt solid and a lot firmer than he was used to.

As soon as he had opened his mouth, Monroe was gone, stumbling backwards against the door. He was shaking his head, his eyes turning red then brown. "Nick, I'm sorry! You made me angry. I-I didn't mean to!"

Nick pushed himself up, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I liked it," he admitted, biting his bottom lip without realising.

"I could have hurt you!"

"But you didn't!" He got up from the bed and took Monroe's hand. "Monroe, you didn't hurt me. It felt good." He shook his head and huffed with a small chuckle. "Actually, it felt more than good."

"I still could have hurt you," Monroe insisted, though his eyes had lightened to their usual warm brown now.

Nick touched his jaw, running a finger along his beard. He hadn't shaven in a while and he looked tired now that they were close again. He leaned up and pressed a hesitant kiss to Monroe's chin. "I didn't panic, Monroe. That's why you didn't hurt me. You're not a wild animal and even though your instincts at time are driven by one, you've controlled them all these years. You're human, Monroe."

Monroe was his knight in shining armour; he was protective, loyal and had saved his life on more than one occasion. He also harbored a mysterious past and Nick understood his fear of losing control. But he didn't want Monroe to hide himself either; he didn't want him to fight his instincts, even if they had dangerous outcomes.

"Nick-"

He leaned up, his fingers grabbing the back of Monroe's head and pushing their lips together. He acknowledged the feeling of fear and brushed it aside – he felt bold and daring. He could feel Monroe's cock hard against his belly again and he took advantage, palming it through his pants.

A low rumble echoed from Monroe's chest, he tried to pull back, but found himself turning Nick to press him against the door. Between rough kisses he tried to beg Nick to push him away, "Nick..." another kiss, "Please..." Nick's teeth against his jaw. Before he could help it, he woged; it was the reaction he needed to push himself away in embarrassment. He shook it off, his face flushed and his breathing uneven.

"You can control it," Nick told him, staying near the door to let Monroe recuperate. He was persistent now and unwilling to let the subject drop. "Practice makes perfect, right?"


	5. V

Monroe had failed to resist Nick's persuasion. It started with a kiss at night before they slept; the first time had gotten out of hand with Monroe pinning Nick to the bed and leaving a nasty bite on his shoulder.

"No, that's it. I'm done," he had insisted, pacing in and out of the bathroom while Nick cleaned his wound.

"You are not done. You're just excited. We'll take it slower next time," Nick had assured him, though the bite did hurt and he was grateful for being able to hide it from his work colleagues. It wouldn't have been an easy one to explain.

They took it slow after that ; Nick would wait until they had gotten out of the bed before advancing on Monroe. He'd kiss him softly, brushing his thumb along his ears a little and then smile at him. "You're getting better at it," he said, as Monroe bounced his leg in distraction.

They advanced to cuddling and touching, though Monroe still found Nick's scent overbearing and took offence when Nick offered to roll around in some Wolfsbane.

"You are not an animal, Nick. I won't have you rolling around anywhere other than my bed."

* * *

"I'm ready," Monroe decided over breakfast Sunday morning.

Nick nodded, dropped the paper and rolled it up. "Good. I want to get to the mall early before the rush. We still haven't decided on a colour for the bedroom and don't say red." He dumped his dishes into the sink. "Grab your coat. Come on."

"I already told you I don't care what colour the bedroom goes," Monroe said, piling his dishes into the sink. "And I don't mean that kind of ready."

Nick started. He wasn't sure how to proceed and didn't want to seem too excited. They had spent a week taking it slow; their short kisses and gentle touches had been getting longer and rougher though. He was almost afraid that he'd lost Monroe all over again after he'd bitten his back – that last bite had hurt for days.

"Ready as in … ready?"

Monroe nodded slowly and looked as if he were contemplating his words. When he looked back to Nick though, his eyes gleamed with determination. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Sooo … do we … go to the bedroom?" Nick wrung his hands around a towel. He could feel a flush in his cheeks, the very same he had felt when he was fifteen and his crush had kissed him back behind the school bleachers.

Monroe rocked on the balls of his feet, his fingers toying with the back of his neck. He shook his head abruptly, his cheeks mimicking Nick's flush. "No," he gasped, shrugging and flicking some crumbs from the counter. "I mean, we need to go pick out paint, right? And there's that clock I need to deliver at two and haven't you got files that you need to drop to Hank later?"

"Right! Yeah, the files." Nick tapped his pockets as if searching for them. He felt fifteen again. "So, we'll get paint and … the clock and … the files …"

"And we can get a take away or something later."

"Yeah. And a few beers maybe?"

"Scratch the beers. Intoxication may not be in our favor."

"Right. No beers. Got it." After a silence laced with awkwardness no teenager could dream to muster, Nick grabbed his keys and shrugged at the door. "Paint shopping?"

"Yep! Let's go."

* * *

"You've got a nice ass," Nick smiled, sneaking up behind him while he washed the dishes and wrapped both arms around his waist. They had managed the pizza, though it didn't satisfy their hunger much as neither was able to devote much attention to anything other than feeling awkward. Nick had perched himself on the edge of the couch the entire time, one eye watching CSI and the other watching Monroe. He had been tempted to lean over and take him there and then by surprise, but past events had taught him better than that.

Monroe snorted. "Some lunges, squats. It fills me out. You should try it sometime too."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"There's nothing wrong with some cushion for the pushin'." Monroe flicked the towel over his shoulder and turned to lean against the counter; he folded his arms over his chest. It wasn't an act of defence and he didn't want Nick to think he was closing him off, rather he wanted to make sure Nick was willing.

Nick lowered Monroe's arms and pulled them around his back, guiding them to his ass. "Be the judge then," he whispered, leaning up to brush their lips together.

Monroe closed his eyes and his fingers clenched. He inhaled Nick's scent; he could smell arousal, pheromones and anxiety. A flame within him kindled. His hands tightened their grip and he closed the gap between their lips, setting off a series of rumbles in his chest. Nick let him lead, submerging his weight against him. He allowed Monroe push him backwards out the door, trusting his partner to guide him through the living room without harm.

Monroe paused at the end of the stairs, eyes still closed and his breathing evenly paced. Nick could tell he was conflicted. "Baby," he rubbed the pad of his thumb along Monroe's lip, "You're doing fine."

"I'm going to ask you to do something," Monroe said and when his eyes opened Nick could see the light red hue beginning to shine. "Just do it without questioning me."

Nick nodded, though he couldn't hide the rising lump in his throat.

"Run," Monroe whispered, his eyes now burning a deep crimson.

And Nick did. He pushed Monroe away, ignoring the growl he heard and bounded up the stairs. Two at a time, he didn't think the panic could be as surreal as it felt; it was a mixture of both excitement and fear. His heart fluttered when he heard Monroe's steps behind him and as he swerved around the corner, the bedroom door just steps ahead of him, he admitted to himself that he had never felt such a mixture of lust and terror.


End file.
